


Burn Baby Burn

by stereomer



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereomer/pseuds/stereomer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob and Spencer swap bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn Baby Burn

It was a Thursday morning.

“Shit,” Spencer cursed. He did not have time for this. He  _so_  did not have time for this. They had a list of specific things they were supposed to be doing this month, a list that Brendon had typed up and taped to the front door of each of their rooms. The list currently was:

• Write kick ass album  
• Promote the yet nonexistent kick ass album by being mysterious about it  
• Phone interviews for July: 7/2, 7/16, 7/18, 7/22, 7/29  
• Begin tracking in third week?  
• Plant trees (if there’s time)  
• Save babies (if there’s time) 

What was definitely not included on the list:

• Swap bodies with Bob Bryar (if there’s time)

At least he suspected it was a bodyswap. He hadn’t gotten any phone calls yet, but it seemed like the most logical conclusion. “Fuck,” Spencer cursed again, watching his reflection. It didn’t change: Bob Bryar was still the one saying, “Fuck.” 

Spencer pressed his hands to his head and said, “Argh,” watching Bob do the same thing. After staring at himself – his Bob-self – for a few more minutes, he figured that enough time had passed for freaking out in the bathroom and prepared to walk out to the lounge to inform MCR of what had happened. 

He wondered how his own band would take it. They might also freak, but then again, they might not; he never quite knew with them. Like, show them a rosevest or have Brendon fly into a room while saying, “Hey, check it out, I can fly,” and they just nodded thoughtfully, but have a spider skitter across the floor and all three of them stood on the same chair while trying to look nonchalant about the fact that they were standing on a chair because of a fucking spider. 

On second thought, before he opened the door, Spencer allowed himself a few seconds to hold his fists in front of his hips and flex his arms. Man, Bob Bryar wasn’t Mr. Universe or anything, but he definitely had some guns. 

When his cell rang, Spencer recognized his own number and answered with, “You been working out?”

“What the  _hell_  are you wearing?” Bob said on the other end.

 

*

 

Bob was being kind of stubborn. “I don’t think we should tell them.”

“Are you serious? Why not?”

“Just think about the reactions we’d get.”

A mental picture of Brendon, Jon, and Ryan crowding up on a chair popped into his mind. “Hey dude, there’s like, a spider in here,” said Imaginary Jon.

“Yeah. Right around there.” Imaginary Brendon pointed vaguely around the room. 

“Fucking spiders,” Imaginary Ryan said viciously. 

So they were a little stereotypical, but still. “Okay,” Spencer said out loud. “Okay, so what if we don’t tell them? What would we do?”

“We’d try to figure out how to fix this on our own?” Bob suggested, but he sounded unsure of himself.

Spencer chewed on his thumbnail. Or he tried to, but there wasn’t much nail to chew. Bob was apparently a compulsive nail-cutter. “Is it possible to pull off acting like each other for the time being?”

“I don’t know,” Bob sighed.

“Well, how would you act if you were me? Name some things.”

“Dude, no offense, but I don’t know you that well.”

“There’s no way we can pull this off, then,” Spencer bit out. 

“Shit, okay. I am guessing I would be… would I be friendly but not overly so? Like, make some jokes at other people’s expenses, but not so much that I come off as a complete asshole?” Bob seemed to be getting into the swing of things. “Easy going, but take no shit?” 

“Close enough,” Spencer shrugged.

“Okay, how would you act like me?”

Spencer rubbed his beard and almost yelped at the sensation of thousands of tiny needles dragging over his palm. He had forgotten that Bob had been shaving for way longer than he had, and that his beard probably grew in tougher because of that. “Um. Be silent? Stare a lot?”

“Jesus, this isn’t going to work,” Bob muttered before he raised his voice and said, “I’m not silent! I talk to my fucking bandmates! And my friends and family! I swear, why does everyone think I’m some mute bastard who can’t talk? I will talk your ear off, Spencer, seriously – ”

“Okay okay okay. Sorry.” Spencer leaned closer to the mirror and squinted, holding the side of his jaw taut. Man, this beard was made of splinters, for real. Either that, or Bob was pulling double duty as Hellraiser on his off time. “God, how many times a day do you need to shave? I feel like there’s an animal growing on my face.”

“Better than this thing you have living on your upper lip. I hit myself in the mouth about ten times already because I keep thinking there’s a caterpillar there.”

“Hey, I cultivated that,” Spencer warned. “Fuck. Okay. To be you, I would be… good-natured, but not like, jovial? Right? And I would talk to people, fine, but I wouldn’t hold extended conversations about life with them or anything, unless I knew them pretty well. And I’d call people names but with a smile on my face?”

“So – yeah. So, basically, you being me is you being you,” Bob said slowly, “and me being you is me being me.” 

Spencer retracked the conversation. “Yeah, I think so. Huh.”

“Huh,” Bob echoed. 

Just then, someone pounded on the door so hard that it actually warped in a little with the impact. “Brian’s timer just went off dude, you better get out of there before he catches you taking a shit.” 

Spencer jumped and almost dropped Bob’s phone into the sink. “I’m not – I’m not taking a shit!” he yelled back. Then, “I gotta go,” he hissed into the receiver. “Dammit. I’m scared.”

“This is probably going to go badly,” Bob informed him.

“Fuck you,” said Spencer. “And what the hell, you have a bathroom timer?”

“Brian’s. If we’re in there for longer than a few minutes, he gets suspicious that we’re breaking that cardinal bus rule. If it gets bad, go hide in my bunk. Anyway, call me as soon as you can.” And Bob hung up. 

 

*

 

Gerard poked his toes into Spencer’s thigh. “You okay, man?”

“Yep.” Spencer tried not to stare at Gerard’s toes, which were still hovering close to his leg. He wasn’t quite used to being touched by Gerard, let alone by his fucking foot. 

“You’re just a little quiet today, is all,” Gerard said. He tucked his foot back under him and stared at the TV again.

After a pause, Spencer said, “Yep.”

Ray poked his head into the back lounge. “Hey Bob, do you mind showing me that fill from yesterday?”

“Eh?” When Ray continued to look at him, Spencer scratched his head, feigning confusion. “Oh. Oh, yeah, the fill. Yeah, I forgot it, sorry.”

“You forgot it?” Ray frowned. “Really? That’s like the first time that’s happened. You remember fills you played when you were three years old.”

“I know,” Spencer caught on quickly. “It fucking sucks, dude. Old age, you know. My mind’s starting to go.” 

At this, Gerard drew his leg out to kick Spencer. Meanwhile, Ray was still frowning. “Man, too bad. It’s cool though, just let me know if you think of it again.”

“Sorry,” Spencer apologized again. Ray shrugged and waved him off, disappearing into the bunk area as Bob’s phone started to vibrate in short, angry buzzes. Spencer deliberately drew it out from his pocket, wrinkled his eyebrows at the screen, and stood up with a quick “I gotta take this” gesture to Gerard. 

Once out of the lounge, Spencer practically sprinted into the bathroom, kicking the door shut with his foot as he flipped the phone open. “You didn’t tell me you were the fucking memory man or whatever,” he accused. 

“Hi,” said Bob.

“Shit, I don’t know if I can pull this off.” Spencer thunked his forehead against the door.

“Hello?” Bob said again.

“Uh. Hi?”

“Hello? Are you – ” Bob’s – Spencer’s – voice got fainter. “Dude, what’s with the reception in here?”

Spencer thought he heard Ryan say something, then Bob said, “I’m going to try outside.” A pause, and his voice got louder again. “Hey, okay.”

“Oh my god,” Spencer began again, but Bob interrupted, “Wait. Me first. What the fuck is going on in this cabin? I feel like I’m in the movie  _Misery_ , but instead of Kathy Bates, you have the spirit of Pete Wentz keeping you captive. And instead of writing a book, you just smoke a lot of pot.”

“We’re writing our album,” Spencer grumped. 

“Right,” Bob drawled. “Lots of writing going on here. I think Jon’s out hiking and eating weird berries right now.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

“No, I’m lying,” Bob admitted. “But seriously, this is weird. I feel like I’m babysitting.”

“We swapped bodies, of course this is weird,” Spencer snapped.

“Can you say that again, I need to take note of how you sound when you get all pissed off.”

“Shut up.” If Spencer covered the lower half of his face and tugged down the beanie over his eyebrows, he kind of still looked like himself. He and Bob had almost the same color eyes. “Is this going to work or not?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Bob sounded like he was kicking rocks down the road. “Do you have any plans on getting us back to the right body? Because I don’t.”

“No,” Spencer sighed.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of fucked. Anyway, I gotta go, Ryan’s yelling at me. He’s supposed to be writing but instead he’s watching _Joseph and the Technicolor Coat_  and eating the berries that Jon brought back.”

“What? Really?”

“No, I’m lying again,” Bob admitted. “Jesus, learn to know when I’m being sarcastic.” He hung up.

 

*

 

When Spencer turned over in his bunk, Frank’s smiling face filled his vision. Spencer yelped and shoved himself backwards, but seeing as how it was a bunk, he had nowhere to go and ended up just hitting the back of his head on the wall.

“Dude,” Spencer said, trying to breathe through the pounding of his heart. Before he could remember where and who he was, he hissed, “What is wrong with you?”

Frank’s smile faltered. “Dude,” he repeated. “What’s wrong with  _you_?” And they just lied there like that, staring at each other for a while in silence. 

“Um,” Spencer finally said. He blinked. Frank was kind of freakishly good looking when he was up close and not talking. 

“Dude, seriously, what’s wrong with you?” 

Spencer tried to grope for an answer that wouldn’t open up the issue to more questions. Jesus, he wasn’t even 21 yet, he definitely was not equipped to handle whatever the fuck happened to bands when they hit their late 20s or their fucking early 30s. “Not. Feeling – well?” Spencer managed. 

Frank studied him, then rolled out of the bunk while yelling, “Hey, I think Bob’s been replaced by an android. Get Brian.”

As soon as Frank’s body disappeared out of sight, Spencer yanked the curtains closed and prayed that nobody else would show up. Almost immediately after that, Mikey yanked the curtains back open and laid his forearms over the thin mattress, pillowing his chin on his hands. 

“Bob,” Mikey said conversationally.

“Mikey,” Spencer replied. He tried to go for the gruff, ‘don’t bother me’ voice. 

“You okay?”

“I – ” The phone buzzed in his pocket again. Spencer tried to act like he didn’t hear or feel it, but Mikey glanced at it and asked, “Are you gonna get that?”

“No?” Spencer couldn’t keep the question mark out of his voice. He allowed himself to exhale when the phone stopped vibrating, but it just started up again a couple seconds later. 

“Sounds like someone wants to talk to you, dude,” Mikey pointed out mildly. 

The curtain was yanked open further and this time Brian’s face appeared. “What’s going on?”

“Answer your phone, Bob,” suggested Mikey.

Spencer wanted to taser himself and wake up when this was all over. Considering that the taser Zack had given him was still safely tucked into his sock drawer back at the cabin, he instead withdrew the phone with his thumb and forefinger and said a careful, “Hello?” while Brian and Mikey looked on with interest. 

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” said Bob. 

“What?”

“Cat’s outta the bag,” was all Bob said before there was a scuffling noise and it was Ryan’s voice saying, “I can’t believe you tried to  _not tell us_.”

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer groaned. 

“Yeah, oh fuck,” Ryan sneered over the line. “You lasted – Bob, how long did you guys last?”

Brian and Mikey were still watching him. Ryan came back on and said, “You lasted half an hour, Spencer. That’s just sad.”

“Yeah, like you could do better.”

“I lasted the entire time in silence when I turned into a girl,” Ryan practically yelled. 

“That’s because no one believed you!” Spencer yelled back, sitting up a bit. 

“He seems back to normal now,” Mikey told Brian. 

Spencer was just opening his mouth to verbally tear Ryan yet another new asshole, but it felt like a piece of duct tape had been slapped over his face and he couldn’t talk. The feeling spread through his entire body until he was lying there motionless, and the last thing he saw was Mikey looking at him with a concerned expression. “Bob?”

 

*

 

“That was a quick episode,” Brendon said. He was looking down at Spencer, who, judging by the cold linoleum against his face, was lying on the kitchen floor. 

Spencer smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and said, “Ugh.” He felt vaguely violated, maybe like how Whoopi Goldberg's character in  _Ghost_ felt like after Patrick Swayze totally used her as a puppet. “How did you guys find out?”

“Bob kept calling Jon ‘what’s-his-face’ instead of, you know, Jon.” Brendon sipped at a cup of water. “And he told us outright, too. So there’s that.”

“That little hint, huh.” Spencer sat up and leaned his back against the dishwasher.

“Bodyswap,” Brendon mused out loud. “That’s a new one.”

“Why did this happen?” Spencer groaned. 

“Why was I able to fly for two days? I don’t know man. Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling you that Ryan hasn’t had a reason to get mad at you for a while. The cosmos needs to keep a balance or something.”

“And it needed to turn me into Bob fucking Bryar to do that?” Spencer finally stood up and brushed off his pants. It  _was_  true, that Ryan really hadn't had a chance to be pissed at Spencer. He glanced toward the hallway, where strains of angry guitar riffs were leaking out from the studio. 

“Happy Thursday,” Brendon grinned. He clapped Spencer on the back. “Good to have you on board again.”


End file.
